An Italian writer, Roberto Saviano, who has lived for years under police protection because he was "sentenced" to death by the Neapolitan Mafia, has put it plainly: "In Italy, democracy has a mafia inside. In Bulgaria, the Mafia has democracy inside." There are of course many ways to say this, one of the most popular being the local mid-1990s adage that "every state has a mafia, in Bulgaria the mafia has a state."

No bons mots can render real life in its complexity, but every witticism has at least some truth in it. In 2018, the truth about Bulgaria has assumed monstrous, Frankenstein-like proportions.

Take the fight against corruption. In March, Desislava Ivancheva, the elected mayor of Mladost, a major Sofia borough, was dragged out of her car in broad daylight, the TV cameras rolling, and handcuffed. She was accompanied by her deputy, Bilyana Petrova. To add insult to injury, the two women were made to remain in the street, in chains, for a few hours with no access to a lawyer and with no… drinking water. Then they were put away. In several court appearances they were banned from talking to the media. Ivancheva, who is 45, resorted to some very unusual practices of making herself heard outside of the courtroom. She scribbled a statement on a piece of paper and showed it to the reporters, Vanunu-style, before being whisked away.

Her alleged crime, for which she has been held since March, was that she reportedly demanded 70,000 euros as a bribe from a developer to issue a construction permit. Her case has dragged on since then. If found guilty, she is threatened with a 30-year jail sentence and confiscation of all her assets.

The key word in the above paragraph is "dragged." In Bulgaria, under current legislation, a suspect can be held without a court trial for many months, even years. As long as it is necessary to "serve justice," or to destroy a person. All the police need to enforce a detention is a request by the prosecutors. A leftover from the times of Communism, apparently, the local, central and supreme prosecuting offices, a Bulgarian version of the US state and general attorneys, have, unlike anywhere in the West, almost unlimited and unchecked powers to order detentions and then drag their feet in piling up the evidence.

The case of Ivancheva and Petrova has assumed some very sinister proportions. In a Kafkaesque turn of events, in November, the two women, both of whom had successfully appealed their detentions, were released by a Sofia court. For a few minutes. The prosecutors were quick to appeal the appeal, and the pair were sent back to jail that very same day. Interestingly, the court imposed a further "measure" on the two women, who had been held under armed guard and appeared in court chained. They are now not allowed… to leave the country. A man, Petko Dyulgerov, who was the one to actually carry the cash that was supposed to be given to Ivancheva as a bribe, has lived in his home under house arrest.

Ivancheva was elected mayor of Mladost in 2016. She was a non-system player, an outspoken opponent of allowing the few patches of green among the Communist-era residential projects in Mladost to be built over by new, now private residential projects. Significantly, she won against a GERB candidate.

This all is being done perfectly legally, abiding to the letter of the Bulgarian law.

Several high-profile cases in the past few months have boosted the image of Bulgaria as a country where those in power can and will use all means available to settle accounts rather than attain the "spirit" of the laws.

Two families of ultra-rich entrepreneurs, the Arabadzhievs and the Banevs, were issued with arrest warrants while both were abroad. The Arabadzhievs, major players in the tourism and entertainment industry and owners of the five-star Marinella Hotel in Sofia, where many of the high-ranking guests stayed during this country's rotating presidency of the EU in the first half of 2018, were accused of money-laundering. They were in France at the time the Bulgarian authorities produced the indictment live on TV. The Arabadzhievs said they would return to Bulgaria voluntarily, and then they promptly disappeared. The Bulgarians responded by arresting their son.

The Banevs, who were also in France at the time the announcement for their indictment came, were brought back by the French police and put in jail. One of their accusations is that they had laundered "1 billion leva" (about 500 million euros). Banev responded that this was ridiculous. How can you launder 1 billion leva?, he said. You have to have made many times as much to be able to launder 1 billion.

The Arabadzhievs and the Banevs are well-respected in the circles of Bulgaria's new rich, but ordinary Bulgarians, who have to survive on a pittance and struggle to make ends meet, are resentful. Deep inside, they are suspicious of anyone who has made a lot of money too fast. They know from the years of Communism and from the 1990s that behind every great fortune there is usually a crime. Deep inside, they approve of the detentions.

Things are usually either very simple or very complicated. In Bulgaria, usually, they are very simple. So, it is not difficult to see the above three cases not as a legitimate endeavour to fight corruption but as ill-concealed attempts by those in power to simulate a fight against corruption and settle some personal accounts in the process. Worse, because they are so high-profile, they may and will be used to justify legal changes to enable even greater state powers to repress citizens of far lesser public stature: doctors, lawyers, teachers, journalists…

In this context a relatively new organisation called KPKONPI, or Commission To Fight Corruption and Seize Illegally Acquired Assets, has come to prominence. The commission was set up three years ago under Western pressure. It was modelled on similar agencies in the West that have the powers to seize, without a court order, assets they deem illegal. The commission has already been used to freeze assets in several prominent cases including the properties of Ivo Prokopiev, the publisher of Capital, a newspaper often critical of the GERB establishment, and of a couple of former GERB ministers who had fallen out with Boyko Borisov.

Such changes are already being devised. While Ivancheva, Petrova and the Banevs were safely under arrest, the Bulgarian Parliament adopted some amendments to boost the powers of KPKONPI. With the new amendments, KPKONPI will be able to seize assets even if a court has decided that no crime has been committed. Legal experts were quick to slam the amendments as generating a new Frankenstein, an omnipotent agency of the state with unlimited powers and without any checks and balances over it. Significantly, it will now be able to act over the heads of the courts.

All of the above is further compounded by the idiosyncrasies of the Bulgarian way of doing things. Little pieces of paper get lost, emails do not get answered. The only system that really functions is the car park fees text messages in Sofia and the employees of the super-secret agency to spy on suspected criminals do not show up for work. The rules and regulations keep changing and there is no way to keep abreast of all of them. The prosecutors in charge of the high-profile cases are usually "sent" from other areas on interim contracts that can be revoked by their superiors at any time. Under such conditions, will they seek to serve their superiors rather than the justice system?

Corruption is not just giving cash under the table to major and minor officials to "oil the wheels" of bureaucracy. Corruption in its Bulgarian version is an intricate and impenetrable system where cash bribes are just one element. Another is political preferences. Yet another, a defining one, is the Balkan setup of interdependencies between individuals, families and business groupings that are largely motivated by personal likes and dislikes rather than cash. One wrong word here or there, one side glance or a statement to the media that someone important enough may perceive as critical – and anyone can be in a very rough ride.

Against this background the situation in Hungary and Poland seems rosy in comparison.

Still, the West, while paying attention to developments in Poland and Hungary, where populist regimes have threatened some of the tenets of modern democracy, is oddly quiet that the same kind of thing, if not worse, has been going on in Bulgaria since Boyko Borisov's GERB took the power in 2009. One explanation is that unlike Orban in Hungary and the current rulers in Poland, Boyko Borisov has prudently not defied the West, at least not in words. Yet, despite the "successes" in infrastructure projects, where the big money is, being trumpeted by the docile media, Bulgaria remains at the rock bottom of almost all possible measurable criteria for a modern democracy. The media are hamstrung, high-level corruption is rampant. Median incomes are the lowest within the EU, so is life expectancy, the quality of public services… the quality of the air in Sofia.

Lozan Panov, the head of the Supreme Court of Cassation in Sofia who is seen as perhaps the only senior magistrate to openly criticise the GERB status quo – and who has been put under increasing pressure and even harassment – has put it succinctly: "We are faced with a system… which skilfully uses the law enforcement services, the media, the economy, politics and, of course, the law administration system. Its actions are not divulged. They are kept under the carpet. Its mistakes are not voiced, but concealed. Its opponents are being persecuted mercilessly."

The situation Panov describes is not only because Bulgaria has fallen victim to its own rulers, which it keeps electing in various forms. A large part of the blame falls on the nominal "opposition," especially on those who identify themselves as being pro-democracy and pro-Western, the new anti-Communist intellectuals. Instead of putting up some credible alternative to the current rule, they focus on criticising President Rumen Radev, probably the only senior state official who dares stand up to GERB and whom they have billed a "Russian puppet." Many of them have in fact sided with GERB, deliberately or not, either by accepting comfortable appointments or in some other way assisting Borisov in establishing his almost total control over society. They will probably be the first ones to leave the GERB boat when it starts sinking. For the time being, however, there is still a long way to go, and it is unclear whether any fresh elections, which seem entirely possible especially if the weather in the coming winter gets too cold, will solve any issues.

Bulgaria has been "captured." It is in a state of suspended animation. There is democracy in the sense that elections are being held from time to time, foreign observers are allowed to keep an eye and so on. But in the "captured" state all of those are being used to further private or corporate interests by manipulating the state policies, the judiciary and the economy, rather than to serve the public good. In this sense democracy has caved in, possibly beyond repair.

As AIG celebrates its 100 birthday, Christina Lucas, General Manager for Bulgaria, shares more on the company's achievements and future

In 2019, AIG celebrates its centenary. What started as an American insurance company in Shanghai is now an international giant. AIG arrived in Bulgaria in 1996. Today it is a household name and the centre of innovation including BPO and industry digitisation.

We are talking about AIG's past, present and future with Christina Lucas, General Manager for Bulgaria. Previous posts included roles in Asia and Latin America.

What did AIG achieve in Bulgaria?

AIG was the first insurance company on the Bulgarian market owned by a foreign strategic investor, dating back to 1996, and led the market in providing innovative risk solutions for over 20 years. In 2014 we stood up a multinational Centre of Excellence in Sofia to serve our European customers in policy administration and claims settlement.Today the centre comprises about 500 professionals speaking over 15 different languages and providing services to thousands of AIG customers across Europe and the 100+ Network Partners around the world.

What makes you different from the other BPO organisations?

A critical differentiator for an insurance service centre is its ability to cope with the complexity of the insurance business. We support core business activities like claims settlement and policy servicing, which require a great deal of professional expertise and product understanding to deliver superior customer service. This creates numerous opportunities for everyone on our team to learn and grow professionally. As part of our Career Development Framework, our colleagues can subscribe to a variety of training courses and programmes customised for their individual development needs. The framework is our commitment to the growth and development of our people and their careers within AIG, and was recently awarded third place in the category Best Career Development Programme in the 'Employer of the Year' national competition organised as part of the 'Career in Bulgaria. Why not?' initiative.

We also distinguish ourselves through our capabilities as an AIG Centre of Excellence. The CoE's perspective is focused on the AIG customer, and we are partnering with internal stakeholders to deliver the best customer experience. We focus on building technical expertise and we actively seek opportunities to enable end-to-end process standardisation and automation. Our internal Process Excellence team has been amazing, running several major process improvement projects at the regional and global levels which have delivered a significant return on investment. In reality, I would define AIG's Sofia Centre of Excellence as a regional business hub more than a BPO, as we are creating a culture of knowledge sharing, problem-solving and collaboration independent of geography.

The outsourcing industry in Bulgaria has grown substantially over the last years. Do you believe that this process will continue?

Bulgaria offers a unique set of external factors that make it particularly attractive to companies that would like to outsource their operations or transfer some of their business processes to another country – favourable legal environment and operating costs, political and economic stability, and a talent pool of well-educated, multilingual people, ready to acquire new skills and competencies. According to the latest annual industry report, by 2021 outsourcing will almost double its turnover both in value and in terms of share in the national economy. I believe that if the government, the academic institutions and the business community work together to address the growing demand for people with technical and professional skills, the positive trend will continue.

However, there is a finite labour pool in Bulgaria and we may soon reach the point at which demand exceeds supply. As industry executives, we need to decide how outsourcing can better serve the Bulgarian economy and society by continuing to create jobs at sustainable rates.

What can companies do to attract and retain talent in this competitive labour market?

Companies should evaluate their employee base to better understand their needs and expectations. In Sofia, we have about 500 employees with an average age of 32. This age group is motivated and innovative in their thinking, and want to be empowered to make a difference in not just the work they do, but in the community around them. At the AIG Centre of Excellence, we always encourage our employees to dedicate time to Six Sigma improvement projects or sign up for volunteer activities to promote internal engagement, and we organise our operations in the best way to make that time available for them.

The millennials also want to see a clear capabilities-driven career path on how they can ascend within the company, in contrast to the more tenure and experiential-based promotions of the past, which is why we created the Career Development Framework that I mentioned earlier. And finally, leading a multi-generational organisation requires a broader set of management skills to develop the best out of each demographic, which we are investing in through enlisting an external executive coach for our senior leaders and developing several layers of management training academies to give our people the skills for 360-degree leadership.

Tell us something about yourself? What motivated you to come to Bulgaria?

I used to work in consulting, and what I enjoyed most about it was the different types of business challenges that I encountered. It's been even more so at AIG. The challenge of stabilising a new and growing services operation in Sofia during times of organisational and socio-political changes, and taking it to the next level through a period of transformation, appealed to me.

How will the insurance market and services change with the advance of artificial intelligence (AI) and other high technologies?

The widespread use of digital devices and internet is putting enormous pressure on industries for digital transformation, and the insurance industry is not an exception. From the new cyber risks which require innovative risk protection, to customers' expectations for a new digital experience during the process of buying insurance or settling a claim, to the growing need to quickly capture and analyse relevant data, the insurance business is facing major challenges and opportunities. The market is already changing and the customer will be the big winner.

Customers will benefit from lower insurance premiums, reduced time to receive their policy documents or settle their insurance claims, and an improved overall customer experience. For example, telematics solutions in auto insurance are already being used to make more accurate risk assessments based on recorded information about one's driving habits like speed and braking, allowing insurers to financially reward safer driving behaviour. Video footage from dashboard cameras, which are widely used to record traffic incidents, can be used as evidence in motor claims and easily shared via cloud technology to speed up claims resolution. In property insurance drones can conduct pre-insurance and post-event inspections and surveys, especially in dangerous or hard-to-reach sites or areas, again reducing the cost and handling time of policy issuance and claim processing. But the real added value to insurance clients will come from insurers applying machine learning and artificial intelligence not only to improve internal processes, but also to provide their clients with real-world data and analytics reports to guide them to the right insurance products or help them reduce their risk and prevent incidents.

What other challenges do insurance companies face today?

The insurance business needs to be more agile to offer flexible insurance products to meet our customers' changing needs, but the insurance customers themselves like consistency in the sense that they do not frequently shop for new risk carriers. As such, internal business growth is a challenge, and requires a significant investment to gain market share. In order to make significant growth, to move the needle, acquisitions will be key. You can see it in the market now with the recent mergers of ACE and Chubb, and AXA and XL Group. Under the previous AIG CEO, the focus was on divestitures to reduce costs and exposures, including our Eastern Europe insurance portfolio. Our new CEO, Brian Duperreault, has balanced a continued review of expenses with acquisitions of strategic partners, such as Validus and Glatfelter.

However, the challenge with acquisitions (and AIG is reaching its 100-year anniversary of growth, which was mostly through acquisitions across the globe) is that you also acquire a book of business that is on numerous unique IT platforms. The standalone systems give us a segregated view of a customer's history of coverages and claims, making it difficult for us to aggregate that information into customer analytics. The drivers for proactive risk management, better pricing, and lower operating costs comes when we are able to consolidate customer insights into a global view to make business decisions. And this again highlights the need for bold action for digital transformation in the insurance sector.

Is AIG prepared to overcome these challenges?

AIG is a company that has a long history and traditions and in 2019 we are celebrating our centennial. The year 2019 represents a rare milestone to recognise and appreciate everything we've achieved since 1919 because of the hundreds of thousands of talented and dedicated individuals who have worked for AIG over the years. And yes, this also means we have the experience, courage and dedication that will take us into the next 100 years and beyond!

In previous times, when information signs of who had built what were yet to appear on buildings of interest, people liberally filled the gaps with their imagination. When they could not explain the origins of a majestic church, a massive earth bank or even a whole city in ruins, they invented legends about supernatural creatures whom they held responsible. For some reason, predominantly Christian Europe often saw the Devil as the most probable builder of certain churches, and particularly of bridges. There is the Devil's Footstep in Frauenkirche in Munich. There is Silbury Hill near Avebury. And about a dozen Devil's Bridges exist in Germany, Wales, England, Austria, Switzerland and France.

Bulgaria, too, has its Devil's Bridge. Curiously, it is located in an area with a predominantly Muslim population.

Bulgaria's Devil's Bridge spans the upper Arda River near the small town of Ardino in the Rhodope Mountains. It is 56m long and 11.5m high at its middle arch, and is located in a landscape that compliments its beauty. This stretch of the Arda flows through an isolated area that combines sublime peaks, bucolic forests and the subtle feeling that something invisible is always on the watch.

Standing before the bridge, marvelling at the reflection of its elegant arches in the water, it is easy to believe that this feat of engineering was only made possible with supernatural help.

Above and next photo: Different people see different devils in different parts of the bridge

Conveniently, there is a plethora of legends to explain how the bridge and the Devil are linked.

One tells that only the Devil could build such a bridge – and he did so, as daring proof of his power, leaving the imprint of his foot in the rocks around. Another tells of a Bulgarian girl running to escape a band of Ottomans and who, exhausted, decided to end it all by jumping from the bridge. When her pursuers looked down to see where she had fallen, they saw the Devil himself in the water. Terrified, they fled, and the girl emerged from the river unscathed.

Challenging to the imagination, one story tells of a young builder who made a deal with the Devil. In exchange for supernatural help, the builder would put the Devil's image into the bridge in such a way that it would be simultaneously visible and hidden. It sounded impossible and the Devil was already rubbing his hands in anticipation of the man's soul, when he realised that the builder had cleverly succeeded in the task. The face of the Devil was there. You only need to crane your neck, or rotate a photo of the bridge vertically, and you are staring into the face reflected in the water.

The true history of the Devil's Bridge is as intriguing as all these legends. It was built in the 16th century, at the request of Ottoman Sultan Selim I, to facilitate travel on a millennia-old route between the Thracian Plain and the Aegean. In the mid-20th century, the route and the bridge were abandoned and forgotten as Communist Bulgaria and NATO member Greece found themselves on the opposite sides of the Iron Curtain.

Over the following years the bridge narrowly avoided disappearing completely. The construction of a dam was proposed for this stretch of the Arda. The entire vicinity was to be submerged, but for some reason the dam was never built, and the bridge survived.

The Devil's Bridge is not only a dark-themed out-of-the-way experience, but also a popular fishing, bathing and picnicking spot

The Devil's Bridge emerged as a popular tourist destination in the 2000s, when rural and sustainable tourism was being developed, usually with EU funding. The increased popularity of the place means more visitors year round, some seemingly coming only to enjoy the barbecue area or the fishing spots. Recent renovations have robbed the centuries-old construction of its weathered charm.

However, if you have the luck to be there alone with the bridge, the river and the mountain, you would be forgiven if you find yourself listening carefully, waiting to hear the echo of the Devil's laughter, as one of the many legends about this place claims.

High Beam is a series of articles, initiated by Vagabond Magazine, with the generous support of the America for Bulgaria Foundation, that aims to provide details and background of places, cultural entities, events, personalities and facts of life that are sometimes difficult to understand for the outsider in the Balkans. The ultimate aim is the preservation of Bulgaria's cultural heritage – including but not limited to archaeological, cultural and ethnic diversity. The statements and opinionsexpressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the America for Bulgaria Foundation and its partners.

Situated on the northern slopes of the Stara Planina, or Balkan Mountains, this small town was a major Revival period centre where the arts and crafts flourished. A number of important Bulgarian poets, revolutionaries and entrepreneurs were born there, and now Bulgarian children are regularly taken to see it in…

It has retained plenty of its quaint charm, but at the same time is one of the few Bulgarian small cities that has eschewed the pitfalls of post-Communism. In fact, its economy after 1989 has done remarkably well. It crowns our selection of Bulgaria's Top 10 small cities that we'll bring you in the first issue of Vagabond in 2019. Where in Bulgaria are you?

Ruins of Bulgaria's recent past are around every corner, inviting exploration. Contunues from issue 146

If anything defines the modern Bulgarian landscape, it is the abundance of recent ruins left from the time when Communism collapsed and the free market filled the void left by planned economy. Dozens of factories, cooperative farms, mines, monuments and infrastructure projects have now become a treasure trove for the urban explorer.

But while urbex, or urban exploration, generally conjures up visions of rundown sites far from civilisation, in poor corners of the country or dodgy neighbourhoods, in Bulgaria this is not always the case. Some of this country's modern ruins are now in expensive neighbourhoods and city centres. Others are at the centre of public attention with controversial projects for an expensive restoration, effectively becoming the material equivalent of the mythical undead: unable to return to life, but stubbornly refusing to go.

Kremikovtsi Metallurgy Plant

Built in the environs of Sofia in the 1960s, the Kremikovtsi Metallurgy Plant was Bulgaria's largest heavy industry installation. It employed thousands of workers and was seen as one of the most illustrious examples of the rapid development of Bulgaria as a Communist economy.

After 1989, however, it soon transpired that the metallurgy plant was a giant on legs of clay (pun not intended). If it hadn't been for the Communist planned economy, it should not have been built in the first place. In fact, the Kremikovtsi plant was located on a mediocre ore deposit. Lack of local raw material forced the authorities to process ore imported from the Soviet Union. The operation was so economically unsustainable that in practice the state subsidised it throughout its life.

In the 1990s, Bulgaria's shaky economy could no longer fund Kremikovtsi. The complex was privatised. A series of new owners, however, were unable or unwilling to modernise it. In 2010, Kremikovtsi was declared insolvent. It is still there, a ghoulish industrial site on the outskirts of the capital.

Access difficulty: High. Private property with armed guards.

Belene Nuclear Power Plant

The most expensive urbex site in Bulgaria is the child of the Communist planned economy and the chaos of the transition to democracy.

Communist Bulgaria decided to build a nuclear power plant near Belene in 1981. The project started in 1987. In 1990 it was put on hold. The information blackout that the Communist government imposed in the wake of the 1986 Chernobyl disaster had made Bulgarians suspicious of nuclear power plants.

However, towards the end of the 1990s and the beginning of the 2000s, a skilful propaganda campaign swayed the general public attitude in the other direction. Nuclear power plants became a symbol of economic independence and prosperity, a matter of national pride. In 2002, the government decided to relaunch the Belene project.

Belene Nuclear Power Plant is strictly off limits

Officially, the new construction effort kicked off in 2008. Importantly, the issues of funding, the overall cost, the contractors and the economic viability of the project were not clearly defined. Some of the investors withdrew amid scandals and allegations of corruption. In 2012, the works were terminated citing lack of funding.

In 2016, Bulgaria was ordered to indemnify the Russian contractor for equipment already ordered and manufactured. In 2017, the government said it would look for a strategic investor to sell the site to, but in 2018 it was announced that the project did not meet the EU's stricter regulations imposed after the Fukushima nuclear disaster. If work on Belene starts anew, a completely new project will have to be designed.

You know where to find it: Belene Town Council has already put the nonexistent power plant on its list of local sites of interest. The prison is in the same direction

The Belene Nuclear Power Plant continues to polarise society. Supporters of the project say it is an investment that will turn Bulgaria into a power engineering leader. Opponents counter that at a time of investment in renewable energy Belene would never be cost effective and would make Bulgaria dependent on Russia. There was even a referendum on the issue, in 2013. While the majority who voted said that they wanted to see a second nuclear power plant constructed, the turnout was too low to make the decision binding.

Meanwhile, the construction site is deteriorating into a very expensive frog-infested pond.

Ironically, the planned second nuclear power plant at Belene is in the immediate vicinity of the notorious Communist-era labour camp for political prisoners.

Access difficulty: Impossible to visit. Armed guards.

Zvezdets Abandoned Military Base

Under Communism, a young Bulgarian man's worst fear was that during his military service he would be sent to the so-called Triangle of Death. Formed by the military bases at Elhovo, Grudovo (today Sredets) and Zvezdets, in Bulgaria's southeast, the triangle was to be the first line of resistance to what was seen as an imminent and inevitable attack from NATO member Turkey. Everyone serving there was trained to believe that they had to withstand the invasion for as long as possible and then die heroically, buying time for the Soviet Army to arrive from Odessa.

Classical example for Communist visual propaganda

Of the three bases of the Triangle of Death, Zvezdets was closest to the border with Turkey. Located deep in the Strandzha, in the eponymous village, it was discontinued in the 1990s during the reform of the Bulgarian military. Like most other abandoned military bases, it was left at the mercy of the elements.

The Zvezdets military base is a ghostly ruin with its empty living quarters, faded patriotic slogans and murals, and dried up water fountains. The base was operational for some time after 1989, and by the pole, on which the national flag used to fly, the coat of arms of Communist Bulgaria is still visible. Today, Gypsies squat in the abandoned apartment blocks intended for the officers.

Access difficulty: Easy. Theoretically, there is a guard somewhere but you will spend more time looking for him than just going in.

Soldiers barracks from the abandoned military base

Abandoned motopiste, Sofia

Modern Sofianites consider Motopista a prestigious neighbourhood. However, the flashy façades of the new luxury apartment blocks look down on the overgrown remains of the eponymous motorcycle track.

Sofianites began flocking to this place, then on the outskirts of the city, in the early 20th century, to watch motorbike races. This activity went on well into Communism, when a stand was built, but when the growing city began invading the motopiste environs, the facility lost its allure and began to deteriorate.

Today locals use the overgrown remains of the motopiste track as a substitute for the public green areas that their overdeveloped neighbourhood needs so badly: they jog and walk their dogs and kids. Sometimes young drivers can be seen practicing manoeuvres.

The stand itself is falling to pieces.

Access difficulty: Easy.

Kosharitsa Tunnel

Ever since Bulgaria was founded in 681, the Stara Planina mountain range was a natural fortification that protected the nation from attacks from the south. In the 20th century, however, the range became more of an obstruction to transport than a strategic advantage. In the 21st century, Bulgarians continue to dream of the time when a tunnel will pass under the Stara Planina.

Few people are aware, however, that in the 1950s Communist Bulgaria invested heavily to overcome the Stara Planina obstacle. It wasn't about facilitating civil communications, though. It was about facilitating military traffic.

Back then, NATO-member Turkey was seen as Warsaw Pact Bulgaria's enemy number one. In the event of an attack from the southeast, the military doctrine went, the Soviet Army would immediately come to the rescue. The Stara Planina mountains, however, would slow it down. Thus Bulgaria started building a railway which would roughly follow the Black Sea coast all the way to the Turkish border. A 50-kilometre tunnel under the eastern reaches of the Stara Planina was part of the project.

Construction started in earnest, and a 2-kilometre-long stretch of the tunnel was drilled near the village of Kosharitsa, not far from Sunny Beach. The project was shelved, for some reason, at the end of the 1950s. The remains, however, still exist.

Access difficulty: Moderate. No signage, few passers-by will know what you are looking for. Park and walk for up to a mile.

Sugar Factory, Sofia

Slivnitsa Boulevard is one of the routes you take to reach the road to Serbia and, ultimately, Central Europe. Beside this busy boulevard, however, crumble the remains of an earlier Bulgarian effort to get closer to European culture and industry.

Zaharna Fabrika, or Sugar Factory, was built in 1898 by Belgians: a pioneering enterprise as previously the country had imported all of its sugar. Within a few years the sugar factory became a major employer and many workers were even given corporate housing near it. In 1914, however, the sugar business went sour. The First World War broke out and four new sugar factories opened in Bulgaria. The factory closed down in 1925.

The factory might be no more, but it had already given birth to a new, vibrant neighbourhood. In 1941 the government began the construction of 350 flats for workers. The trend continued under Communism, and the former sugar factory was turned into a granary.

In 1998 the main production hall, with its elegant red-brick neo-Gothic architecture, was listed as a culture monument of national significance. Due to lack of maintenance, however, it began to crumble. Unemployed locals began demolishing whole walls in search of scrap iron.

Since the 1990s, ideas for turning Zaharna Fabrika into a modern museum, art space, or lofts have come and gone, with no results at all. The property remains neglected and with each passing day, new bits of it disappear forever. The time will come, and soon, when the only reminder of the factory's very existence will be the name of the neighbourhood, Zaharna Fabrika.

Access difficulty: Easy to moderate. You can't enter because there is a guard. Best views are from the nearby flyover.

High Beam is a series of articles, initiated by Vagabond Magazine, with the generous support of the America for Bulgaria Foundation, that aims to provide details and background of places, cultural entities, events, personalities and facts of life that are sometimes difficult to understand for the outsider in the Balkans. The ultimate aim is the preservation of Bulgaria's cultural heritage – including but not limited to archaeological, cultural and ethnic diversity. The statements and opinionsexpressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the America for Bulgaria Foundation and its partners.

A scandal in GERB's Bulgaria usually lasts for a couple of days as it is superseded by the next scandal to keep the public busy and thinking about things other than the politics and the problems of the day. One scandal in November, however, lasted well over a week. Interestingly,…

Or, rather, the cocktail party that followed a modern art exhibition.

The generator of this was Oda Jaune, whose real name is Mihaela Danovska, a Bulgarian artist born in 1979. In 1998-2003 she studied in Dusseldorf under Jorg Immendorff, the German painter, sculptor, educator and member of the art movement Neue Wilde. Danovska married Immendorff and went on to a brilliant art career. She won the Pierre Cardin Best Painter Prize in 2012 and has had numerous exhibitions in Germany, Italy, France and elsewhere.

Following her exhibition at the National Gallery in Sofia, the organisers set up a cocktail party where the food, mainly salami and cheese, was arranged as a… reclining mermaid. The local art crowd was in attendance, but no press was invited. Snapshots of the "salami mermaid" leaked out, and all hell broke loose.

Known and unknown hacks put pen to paper to produce hundreds of vitriolic commentaries on how could those privileged enough to be invited to a party like that eat and drink while mothers of disabled children protested outside for better conditions. How could the National Art Gallery provide its rooms to a debauchery? Was this not a major provocation against Bulgaria's national decorum and even security? How, why, who paid for it, who was responsible, who is to be crucified etc etc – enhanced by the social media networks, the newspaper commentaries snowballed and threatened to become a full-scale street protest, probably the first one in Bulgaria on an arts issue.

Still, this was not the first time when food created a scandal in latterday Bulgaria. In the late 2000s then President Georgi Parvanov, who is not a modern artist, treated his guests on 3 March, Bulgaria's National Day, to a cake decorated with sugarcoated figurines of… Bulgarian resistance soldiers fighting the Ottomans, in 1877-1878. There was some limited criticism at the time, but nothing compared to Oda Jaune.

The villages in Bulgaria that are abuzz with life are generally located around cities in the plains, like those surrounding Plovdiv. Their houses were mostly built after the 1960s, so more often than not they do not offer much for the curious visitor to see, besides the ubiquitous memorial to some local Communist and a few stalls with fresh homegrown produce.

The villages that charm with their traditional architecture and atmosphere are the complete opposite: they are located in the mountains and are now depopulated. Their houses are crumbling, their gardens full of weeds, their churches locked, their cemeteries abandoned. The extent of these villages and the presence of large communal buildings, such as churches and community centres, suggest that once they teemed with life. That came to an end with the emigration to larger cities that followed the forced industrialisation under Communism, and the continued emigration to larger cities and abroad, fuelled the hardships that followed the transition to democracy.

Dlagnya is a village that defies the general rule.

It has fewer than 30 permanent residents and is located on the northern slopes of the Stara Planina, near Dryanovo. The area is liberally scattered with small villages and hamlets that once were home to thousands of people but are now mostly empty.

St Dimitar is an example for a village church that does not open for funerals only

Dlagnya, however, looks in good shape. The houses in the centre are well maintained and the main place of interest, the 1842 St Dimitar Church, has been sensitively restored and is now open for the major Orthodox holidays. When this happens, the visitors in and around the church by far outnumber those who live in Dlagnya.

Until 2002, Dlagnya was the same as the other villages around: quiet, with a locked church. Then, however, the locals organised themselves, and gathered enough money to restore St Dimitar. A young and active priest from Veliko Tarnovo started visiting. Believers and curious locals from the region began to gather, attracted by the tranquility of the place, the genuine feel of community, and the beautiful natural surroundings.

At important Christian feasts now dozens of Bulgarians and expats living in the region attend mass at St Dimitar, listen to classical concerts performed in the church, and share meals at the restored 1867 village school in the churchyard.

Outside these events, however, Dlagnya returns to the quietness of a mountain village abandoned by most of its former inhabitants.

The classical concert at the Dlagnya church after Christmas mass has become a local tradition

High Beam is a series of articles, initiated by Vagabond Magazine, with the generous support of the America for Bulgaria Foundation, that aims to provide details and background of places, cultural entities, events, personalities and facts of life that are sometimes difficult to understand for the outsider in the Balkans. The ultimate aim is the preservation of Bulgaria's cultural heritage – including but not limited to archaeological, cultural and ethnic diversity. The statements and opinionsexpressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the America for Bulgaria Foundation and its partners.

Books about Bulgarian history in foreign languages are few and far between. This is particularly true for this nation's recent past as a Communist country. While some international researchers with an interest in 20th century history are aware that Bulgaria was a loyal Soviet ally between 1944 and 1989, just…

A new book, Bulgaria Under Communism, published by Routledge in 2018, fills the gaps for English speakers. Written by Professor Ivaylo Znepolski and historians from the Bulgarian Institute for Research of the Recent Past, the volume covers the most important aspects of Bulgaria as a Communist country. It provides all the background needed for a person unfamiliar with Bulgarian history to understand how and why Communism took over, in 1944. It also explores the profound transformation of Bulgarian politics, society, economy and culture in the 45 years that followed.

Communism in Bulgaria is often perceived as a monolithic period, but this is not so. Communist Bulgaria of the 1950s was different from Communist Bulgaria of the 1980s. Communist policies fluctuated between internationalism and nationalism, the economy balanced between large-scale spending and bankruptcy, Bulgaria's minorities, intelligentsia and religious institutions were showered with privileges or were brutally suppressed. The authors of Bulgaria Under Communism thoroughly explain these transformations. The narrative is divided into three chronological parts: establishment of Communism and Stalinism; destalinisation and consolidation of Todor Zhivkov's regime; and the collapse of Communism in Bulgaria. The role of the regime's defining figures, dictators Georgi Dimitrov and Todor Zhivkov, is clearly explained.

The result is a rich and fascinating picture of one of Europe's least known former Communist countries.

Bulgaria Under Communism is a part of the Routledge Histories of Central and Eastern Europe, ISBN: 9780815372790

]]>ReviewsSun, 23 Dec 2018 11:24:13 +0000QUOTE-UNQUOTEhttps://www.vagabond.bg/fun/quote-unquote/item/4392-quote-unquote.html
https://www.vagabond.bg/fun/quote-unquote/item/4392-quote-unquote.html"Give me the Interior Ministry for 24 hours and then there will be no street protests at all." Valeri Simeonov, leader of the National Front for Salvation for Bulgaria

"In Bulgaria not only the working and the protesting people are poor. Capitalists are poor, too."

Radosvet Radev, Chairman of the Bulgarian Industrial Association

"I am not Boyko Borisov's personal attorney."

Chief Prosecutor Sotir Tsatsarov

"Let's wait for the end of the construction works, then everyone will see with their own eyes. Many of the photos are manipulated."

Spread on the easternmost slopes of the Rhodope, Ivaylovgrad is still largely defined by its past as a border outpost. In the Middle Ages, Bulgarians and Byzantines disputed control over the nearby Lyutitsa fortress. Under Communism, the town was deep in the border zone. Entering it without a permit was impossible, as NATO members Greece and Turkey were a stone's throw away. In the 2010s, the border here was frequently crossed by refugees.

Probably because it has been perceived as somewhat off-the-beaten-track, Ivaylovgrad remains largely unknown to outsiders. There is a one site, however, that does attract visitors: the remains of an ancient Roman villa. Spacious and richly decorated with mosaics and sculptures, it is one of the best examples of a well preserved and exhibited archaeological site in Bulgaria.

The villa was built sometime after 44-46 AD, when the Romans conquered the Thracians.

At that time, the so-called Villa rustica, or country residences, were not like the holiday homes of today. They were huge estates involved in farming or industries such as brick and pottery production.

A portrait of one of the villa's owners. Historians still disagree the children's body dysmorphia

The inhabitants of these villas were counted in the dozens. Most of them were slaves and workers who lived in the working parts of the estate. The owners had their own quarters, where they enjoyed the pleasures of civilised life thanks to a small armies of servants.

The location where Villa Armira was built, on the Armira River, a tributary of the Arda, was ideal for such a venture. The Thracian sun and the waters of the Arda and its tributaries provided favourable conditions for growing grain, vines, vegetables and fruit. Timber was abundant, and nearby quarries produced top-quality stone and marble. These were sold in the nearby city of Uskudama (later Hadrianopolis, today Edirne, in Turkey) and were shipped farther away on the then navigable Maritsa River.

Villa Armira spread over 3,600sq.m. It had two stories, 22 mosaic-decorated rooms for the owners and their guests, and a bathhouse. In the middle of the open courtyard there was a pool with marble reliefs, pillars and sculptures.

Generations of the same family inhabited the Villa Armira over the centuries, but most of them remain anonymous to us. One of the villa's owners, however, has left a valuable trace of his existence: he commissioned a mosaic portrait of himself on the floor of one of the rooms. Some archaeologists believe that the features of this thoughtful, bearded man betray a Middle Eastern ancestry. Intriguingly, most of the finest artworks in the villa were made in Aphrodisias, a city in Asia Minor, now Turkey, known for its school of architectural decoration.

But that mosaic has more curious details, as next to the owner a boy and a girl are depicted, both naked and both with legs showing clear signs of dysmorphia. Some researchers explain the bowed legs as a sign of rickets. Others suggest a simpler explanation; that the artist lacked the skill needed to depict human bodies authentically. The portrait mosaics, which were made at a later date, are not as technically perfect as the geometrical and floral ones which adorn other parts of the villa.

The villa and its inhabitants fared well until the estate was destroyed and abandoned during the Goth war of 378. The decisive battle of the conflict took place in nearby Hadrianopolis, and cost the life of Emperor Valens, the first Roman emperor to be killed by the Barbarians.

The remains of Villa Armira lay forgotten for centuries, occasionally disturbed by treasure hunters. This continued until 1964, when the construction of a reservoir on the upper course of the Armira River led to its rediscovery.

It was an amazing find, as the villa is one of the earliest and largest buildings of its kind in the Balkans. It sheds light on the region's economic history, and the remains of its mosaics and marble decoration are considered among the finest in Bulgaria.

The inhabitants of Villa Armira enjoyed luxury living

These were nearly lost in 1991, as the tumultuous beginning of the transition to democracy and soaring unemployment forced many Bulgarians to turn to treasure hunting. An underground network for smuggling was born. The state was helpless. In these times of governmental incapacity, museums were robbed, tombs were scavenged, ancient sites were bulldozed. Finds were sold to rich collectors in Bulgaria and abroad.

Villa Armira was a victim, too. Over the span of several months in 1991, most of its marble decorations and some of its mosaics were stolen. Some of them appeared years later at auctions in the West.

What remained of the villa was left to decay until the 2000s, when the site was renovated and conserved, and many of the stolen pieces of decoration were returned.

Discoveries continued, too.

In 2001, treasure hunters targeted a nearby burial mound by Svirachi village, but archaeologists intervened in time, and then began excavations. This was how they discovered a mound spanning 60 metres. It was encircled by a wall of stone and topped with a monument. Several people were buried in it, along with chariots and golden wreaths.

The mound most probably belonged to the owners of Villa Armira.

Soon afterwards a similar mound (with no wall) was excavated near Zoni, a Greek village some 20 km east of Villa Armira. There were five graves in it and five well-preserved chariots. Did this mound belong, too, to the inhabitants of Villa Armira? It appears likely.

High Beam is a series of articles, initiated by Vagabond Magazine, with the generous support of the America for Bulgaria Foundation, that aims to provide details and background of places, cultural entities, events, personalities and facts of life that are sometimes difficult to understand for the outsider in the Balkans. The ultimate aim is the preservation of Bulgaria's cultural heritage – including but not limited to archaeological, cultural and ethnic diversity. The statements and opinionsexpressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the America for Bulgaria Foundation and its partners.

Winter with its cold, ice and smog can be overwhelming in Bulgaria. Thankfully, there is a quick solution: Thessaloniki.

The second largest city in Greece is a five-hour drive from Sofia, and has everything you might crave in the harsh Balkan winter. The weather is balmier. There is no ice. The sea breeze wafts in fresh air and the ideal conditions to relax, unbutton your coat and breathe freely.

Thessaloniki is more relaxed, even more anarchic, than Athens. In its centre, inexpensive shops rub shoulders with luxury boutiques and busy cafés. Street vendors sell lottery tickets and Greek pretzels. Young people on scooters manoeuvre between the tightly parked cars and sometimes between the pedestrians on the pavements. Well dressed women walk slowly, immersed in deep conversation with their friends, on their way to the Modiano covered market. Joggers run along the promenade without giving a second glance to Thessaloniki's emblematic White Tower.

Thessaloniki may be relaxed, but it is far from provincial. Its events calendar is packed with concerts by performers who rarely appear in Sofia. The night life oscillates between the centre and the former industrial zone west of the harbour that is now a collection of clubs, hotels, a museum (to waterworks!) and abandoned factories, storehouses, railway lines and rusting carriages.

The city has been like this for most of its long history. Since its establishment in Antiquity, Thessaloniki has always teemed with life, trade and commerce. The remains of its rich past are still visible all around. The weathered reliefs on the 4th century Arch of Galerius recall the Roman emperor's victory over the Persians, while the nearby Rotunda, also built by Galerius, is covered with outstanding ancient mosaics. The minaret from the days when it was a mosque still stands in the garden.

The Arch of Galerius is one of the most remarkable sites in Thessaloniki

Byzantine churches, a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site, can be seen amid the drab 1960s and 1970s apartment projects. St Demetrius is the most popular but St Sophia and Panagia Chalkeon also deserve a visit. The excellent Byzantine Museum provides valuable background on the city's mediaeval life.

The red-brick remains from the Ottoman times – a former mosque here, an old hammam there – add a welcome splash of colour to Thessaloniki's prevailing grey. The city fortress, which was used and reused by a succession of rulers, looms over the labyrinth of 19th century houses in the Ano Poli, or Upper City, quarter. The best views of Thessaloniki and the sea are from here. When the air is clean, Mount Olympus can be seen on the horizon.

Thessaloniki's joys of life are as diverse as is its cityscape. You can scout for antiques in the flea market a street away from the remains of the ancient forum. You can stroll along the promenade or spend hours the Greek way, chatting with friends in a waterfront café. You can stock up on artisan olive oil, excellent olives or spices from the Modiano market, or you can lose yourself in the winding streets around, until you find yourself in front of the dusty façade of the City Halls. These no longer sell food, but some of the empty spaces are now restaurants.

Restaurants! The food that Thessaloniki offers year round is one of the main reasons to take that five-hour drive from Sofia. The local taverns provide variety and quality at more affordable prices than those in Athens: tender fresh fish and grilled octopus covered in olive oil and oregano, delicate mussels with rice, juicy meatballs, tender lamb chops, fried potatoes crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside, melted cheese in an earthenware pot, bread that is to die for. Free desserts. The list goes on for pages.

With a full stomach and a slightly fuzzy head from the ouzo and the local wines, you can only wonder: why not move to Thessaloniki permanently, or at least for the winter?

Bulgarian seaside towns look towards the mainland but Thessaloniki is open out to sea

Of course, with Andrej there was no question of it being anything more serious than sex. We weren't even girlfriend and boyfriend. He never once introduced me as his girlfriend. I was a girl. Not his girl. When we would go out with other people, they were usually foreigners, current or potential clients, very rarely his friends. I would sit by some guest, explaining what was in a shopska salad, saying "cheers," letting them light my cigarettes if they were men, or lighting their cigarettes if they were women, and when Andrej's stories or the other people's interest began to dry up, or dessert was taking a long time, with his subtle, smiling diplomacy he would turn the conversation around something at the table and casually say, "And this is how we were influenced heavily by the Soviets. Oh, by the way, did you know, Danny was born in the Soviet Union. Right, Danny?," after which the conversation would start back again, fueled by questions that would immediately be forgotten and answers that didn't interest anyone.

What could I tell people about this Soviet Union where I had been born? From the town where I was born I remembered the blue letters on the bus station, lit up against the winter night – I was a year and a half old, and my mother insisted that there was no way I could remember this, that someone must have told me; I remembered my grandfather's Zaporozhets, where we would drive with two more people than were allowed, and so the children were seated down in the floor wells; I remembered my grandmother's kitchen and her yard, where my brother and I would examine the lines of red firebugs. These tiny pieces were important only to me, so for the foreign guests I would borrow others from my mother's stories – southern summers, veiled women, high peaks over unscalable walls, stormy seas, the gardens that my grandfather planted.

Because of the nature of his work, Andrej was surrounded by all manner of people who, for their part, were able to get various things done. Some connections were managed carefully, while others were exploited once and then dropped. The same went for the women, who placed more value on breaking into careers as models, make-up artists, or business women than on their reputations. Andrej's contacts were spread out not only in the publishing and advertising industries, but also among film producers, studios, and modeling agencies, as well as in big international business. He claimed that this was the most important key for the women's favorable disposition towards him. One night in intimate company he had had a little too much to drink and excitedly explained the price list of the news anchors on national television: for dinner with A. – one three-figure sum, to spend the night with I. – a certain four-figure sum, for which she might condescend to a second evening.

Yes, the '90s had just dropped off the calendar, but they were still hanging around. The mafia were successful. Politicians were successful. Someone who didn't know these times might have a hard time drawing a boundary between these two professions. Mushrooming and flourishing alongside them were their lawyers, doctors, bodyguards, and errand boys – bunches of people who rendered expert services, and their attendants and their children.

The women who were successful were the wives, or more often the lovers, of many of these successful men. The sins and sorrows that befell us in later years were born and built up their muscles precisely then – just like we did ourselves. But whereas we were struggling to survive and to grow up, to maintain our families and a little sanity, to overcome this crisis, too, to help this friend, to send off the latest one who couldn't endure it anymore, to stave off the latest outrage, they were accumulating resources that subsequently allowed them to divide and control us unimpeded.

To leave for abroad – where, in our imaginations, better opportunities awaited us at the airport with a bag of good luck – was a universal practice. At the end of the '90s the Bulgarian family was a scattered jigsaw puzzle – some of the pieces stayed home, others worked abroad. Our mothers, sisters, and husbands built hotels in Spain, cared for Greek pensioners, washed cars in Germany, flipped burgers in the States, and the children who had the opportunity studied at universities. Most of them would send money home. So we also traveled – going there with sacks of rattling jars, and coming back with bags full of electronics and appliances.

The route out often led first from a small town to Sofia, and then from Sofia to abroad.

I couldn't see what my options were to be successful, but I wanted, really wanted, to succeed. I didn't have the money to leave as a student. That's what my mother told me – "I have no money, I have no opportunities, see if you can think up something yourself."

I didn't know how to become a politician. The mafia were men. I couldn't imagine myself marrying one of these people or sleeping with them – not just because they were lewd, greasy, bow-legged older men with horrible, Cranachian expressions, or because they were criminals, or because they were inaccessible in their heights of the nomenklatura elite. We were just from different worlds. I and the people I lived among were one Bulgaria; they were another. And even when they would shoot each other on the neighboring street, I would never have said that these people and I lived in the same world.

Andrej, for his part, was at home in every world, in the company of anyone. Even today I still have no idea why he paid attention to me, of all people.

I can see much more logic in why he was in a hurry for us to split up.

Albena Todorova is a poet with a day job. Her self-published debut poetry book stihotvoreniya (poems) won an award at the prestigious Ivan Nikolov Awards in 2014 – one of a very few self-published collections to do so. Her second poetry book, Stihotvoreniya, ot koito ti se jivee (Poems to make you want to live), was published in 2018. Albena has been working on a novel draft for the last several months. You can find her blog, written mostly in Bulgarian, at http://bembeni.com.

THE ELIZABETH KOS­TOVA FOUNDATION and VAGABOND, Bulgaria's English Monthly, cooperate in order to enrich the English language with translations of contemporary Bulgarian writers. Every year we give you the chance to read the work of a dozen young and sometimes not-so-young Bulgarian writers that the EKF considers original, refreshing and valuable. Some of them have been translated in English for the first time. The EKF has decided to make the selection of authors' work and to ensure they get first-class English translation, and we at VAGABOND are only too happy to get them published in a quality magazine. Enjoy our fiction pages.